S9T3 


UC-NRLF 


1 — 


RUSSIAN  LITERATURE 


HORACE   P.^BIDDLE. 


CINCINNATI: 
Robert  Clarke  &  Co.,   Printers, 

1877. 


PRESERVATION 
COPY  ADDED 
ORIGINAL  TO  BE 
RETAINED 

lAR  9      1994. 


UNIVE 

y 


RUSSIAN   LITERATURE. 


SINCE  the  Crimean  war,  in  1855,  the  power  of 
Russia,  although  it  suffered  in  that  contest,  has  been 
much  more  noticed  by  other  nations  than  it  had  been 
before ;  and  since  the  abolition  of  serfdom  in  her 
dominion,  in  1861,  her  government  has  become  a 
study  for  other  statesmen  besides  her  own  :  but  no 
nation  yet  has  given  her  literature  more  than  a  pass- 
ing notice.  The  reason  may  be  plain.  Her  great 
military  power  is  felt  by  the  world,  and  her  policy, 
in  reference  to  the  law  of  nations,  has  its  influence, 
but  her  literature,  which  will  ultimately  represent  the 
best  results  of  all  her  powers,  is  not  yet  established. 
Perhaps  her  banner  may  yet  wave,  her  policy  rule, 
and  her  language  be  heard,  from  the  chilling  snows 
of  Siberia  to  the  burning  rays  of  Good  Hope — for 
she  is  rapidly  availing  herself  of  the  science,  art,  and 
skill  of  other  nations — if  so,  then  her  literature  will 
be  known  to  the  world  ;  for  the  school  and  college, 
in  the  range  of  time,  are  more  powerful  than  the 
cabinet  and  the  field. 

Literature  is  as  enduring  as  human  nature,  and 
had  its  beginning  almost  coeval  with  the  origin  of 
mankind.  The  traditions,  observations,  and  tales 
of  love  and  battle,  form  the  bases  of  the  first  rude 
essays  of  the  historian,  the  philosopher,  and  the  poet. 
Poetry  precedes  civilization — not,  indeed,  in  the  shape 


173419 


RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 


of  regular  poems,  but  in  bold  expression  and  striking 
metaphor;  tradition  is  ever  the  precursor  of  authen- 
tic history,  and  observation  is  the  only  true  basis  of 
philosophy.  The  arts  began  early  in  the  history  of 
man.  Necessity  invents  the  useful  arts,  and  the  love 
of  the  beautiful,  implanted  in  our  nature,  suggests 
the  fine  arts.  After  myths  have  passed  away  like  the 
clouds  of  the  sky,  or  the  fogs  of  the  sea  ;  after  tra- 
ditions have  been  winnowed  of  their  fictions,  and 
furnished  their  grains  of  truth;  after  philosophy  has 
studied  the  universe  and  its  laws,  then  comes  science, 
which  is  what  we  know ;  and  all  of  these  together 
constitute  a  nation's  literature.  Whenever  a  nation 
begins,  it  begins  a  history,  a  philosophy,  the  arts 
and  sciences,  and  a  literature.  But  amongst  a  peo- 
ple, where  man  has  to  struggle  with  the  elements  and 
his  enemies  for  mere  animal  existence,  although  he 
necessarily  acquires  knowledge,  there  are  but  few  joys 
for  the  mind  and  heart;  yet  in  more  polished  nations 
literature  gradually  becomes  a  want  of  the  soul,  al- 
most as  much  as  bread  is  a  want  of  the  body.  Lit- 
erature, indeed,  may  be  defined  to  be  the  recorded 
culture  of  the  mind  and  the  soul;  and  the  best  lit- 
erature is  the  best  thoughts,  upon  the  best  subjects, 
expressed  in  the  best  words.  The  orator  and  the 
poet  precede  the  scholar  and  the  author.  The  scholar 
learns  from  the  poet,  the  author  reads,  invents,  and 
imagines;  the  critic  comes  last.  He  draws  his  rules 
from  those  who  spoke,  wrote,  and  sung,  without 
rules,  save  the  great  rule  of  nature;  and  the  bold 
oratory  and  artless  song  of  the  savage  sometimes 
have  a  beauty  which  no  learning  or  criticism  can  im- 
prove. Kings,  princes,  heroes,  warriors,  statesmen, 


RUSSIAN     LITERATURE. 


and  rulers,  however  useful  to  their  times,  however 
wise,  brilHant,  or  accomplished,  pass  away  with  their 
periods;  while  the  man  of  letters  represents  pure 
thought,  which  remains  like  the  fixed  stars  ;  and  he 
is  often  remembered  for  a  single  sentence,  a  line,  a 
verse,  a  principle,  a  sentiment,  simply  expressed  in 
words,  long  after  kings,  princes,  heroes,  warriors, 
statesmen,  and  rulers  are  buried  beneath  the  dust  of 
ages,  and  forgotten  forever. 

The  earliest  authentic  history  of  the  Slavonic  na- 
tions, of  which  Russia  is  the  great  modern  exponent, 
fades  away  amidst  the  traditions,  legends,  and  tales 
which  have  just  been  noticed.  Herodotus  mentions 
a  people  which  are  supposed  to  have  been  a  tribe  of 
the  Slavi ;  and  some  allusions  to  their  country  and 
race  are  made  by  Strabo,  Pliny,  and  Tacitus.  From 
the  resemblance  of  the  Slavonic  language  to  the 
Sanscrit  it  has  been  supposed  that  these  people  came 
from  India,  but  when  they  passed  over  into  the  re- 
gions they  now  occupy,  can  not  be  ascertained ; 
probably  it  was  before  the  Christian  era,  but  the  first 
authentic  intelligence  with  regard  to  them  does  not 
reach  back  farther  than  the  sixth  century.  Doubtless 
the  whole  Slavonic  race  originally  spoke  the  same 
language,  but  it  was  soon  broken  up  into  dialects, 
as  a  language  spread  over  a  vast  region  of  country 
will  be — especially  while  it  remains  unwritten.  The 
Slavonic  language  has  become  varied  and  enriched  by 
the  Greek,  Latin,  German,  French,  and  even  Eng- 
lish, and  has  now  ripened  into  the  modern  Russian  ; 
but  the  earliest  manuscripts  in  the  Slavonic  language 
are  not  older  than  the  time  of  the  eleventh  century. 
There  are  some  inscriptions  and  devices  upon  the 


RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 


crosses  and  monuments  perhaps  older  than  that  date. 
The  earliest  records  by  native  writers  were  written 
about  the  middle  of  the  eleventh  century.  A  code 
of  laws  was  enacted  as  early  as  1280,  and  recorded  in 
the  native  language.  And  Russia,  like  Greece,  and 
indeed  like  most  other  nations,  has  its  epic  poem.  It 
is  called  "  Igor's  Expedition,"  and  is  supposed  to 
have  been  written  in  the  twelfth  century.  It  is  said 
to  possess  a  refinement  and  delicacy  remarkable  for 
so  rude  a  people  as  they  were  at  that  time,  and  also 
has  much  power  and  gracefulness;  but  the  critics  do 
not  place  it  very  high  as  a  literary  production.  In 
the  fifteenth  century  Russian  literature  received  an 
important  influence  from  the  liberality  of  some  of 
the  native  princes,  who  invited  the  learned  from  Ger- 
many, Italy,  and  France  into  their  dominions.  About 
the  same  time  public  schools  were  founded;  and  the 
Russian  youth  were  sometimes  sent  to  foreign  uni- 
versities to  be  educated.  The  language  and  literature 
of  Poland,  also,  about  this  period  commenced  hav- 
ing an  important  effect  upon  the  minds  of  the  Rus- 
sian people;  and  subsequently  Russia  obtained  the 
greater  part  of  her  public  libraries  from  the  spolia- 
tion of  Poland,  and  very  much  enriched  her  litera- 
ture from  the  language  and  works  of  that  intelligent 
and  brave,  but  unfortunate  people.  History  began 
to  be  regularly  recorded,  and  thus  assume  an  authen- 
tic and  permanent  shape;  but  Russian  literature  can 
not  be  said  to  have  had  a  beginning  before  the  reign 
of  Peter  the  Great,  at  the  close  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  He  adopted  the  Russian  language  in  his 
courts  of  justice,  and  in  diplomacy,  and  made  it  the 
polite  language  of  the  nation.  He  had  type  cast, 


RUSSIAN     LITERATURE. 


and  established  presses,  and  caused  many  books  to  be 
translated  into  the  Russian  from  other  languages — 
particularly  from  the  German  and  French ;  indeed, 
Peter  the  Great  was  to  Russia  very  much  what  Alfred 
the  Great  was  to  England;  still,  up  to  this  time 
even,  the  Russian  language  had  no  systematic  gram- 
mar, and  of  course  but  little  attention  had  been  paid 
to  style.  But  if  Peter  the  Great  laid  the  foundation 
of  Russian  literature,  Lomonosof  must  be  regarded 
as  its  architect.  As  most  great  benefactors  are,  he 
was  humbly  born  ;  his  father  was  a  fisherman.  He 
first  learned  to  read  from  the  servants  of  the  church, 
and  so  ardent  was  his  desire  for  knowledge,  that  he 
left  the  shelter  of  his  father's  roof  clandestinely,  and 
went  to  Moscow,  where,  he  had  been  told,  they  taught 
the  languages  ;  thence  to  St.  Petersburg,  where  he  ob- 
tained a  liberal  education.  Afterwards  he  traveled 
through  Germany  and  Holland,  where  he  studied 
philosophy  and  the  sciences.  His  Russian  grammar 
brought  his  native  language  from  chaos  into  order, 
and  he  was  the  first  one  who  cultivated  style.  He 
sketched  the  history  of  his  country,  and  wrote  sev- 
eral works  on  chemistry  and  mineralogy.  He  also 
composed  a  long  epic  poem,  as  well  as  several  odes 
and  tragedies,  but  they  do  not  rank  high  ;  he  was 
rather  a  philosopher  than  a  poet.  His  works  are 
blemished,  however,  by  the  too  common  fault  of  all 
who  write  under  tyranny,  namely,  an  undue  tendency 
to  panegyric,  and  a  stooping  to  despotic  power. 
These  are  weaknesses  in  a  great  mind,  but  the  age 
and  country  in  which  he  lived  must  be  the  excuse 
of  Lomonosof.  Contemporaneous  with  Lomonosof 
were  Kheraskof  and  Sumarakof,  who  were  very  pro- 


8  RUSSIAN    LITERATURE, 

• 

lific  writers,  but  not  of  remarkable  genius;  although 
Kheraskof,  having  written  an  immense  and  cumbrous 
epic  poem,  was  called  the  Russian  Homer.  About 
the  same  time  also  lived  and  flourished  Dershavin,  a 
poet  of  true  genius.  Although  his  works  were  be- 
dazzled with  the  glory  of  Catharine,  yet  the  true 
metal  could  be  discovered  beneath  the  tinsel.  He 
wrote  an  "Ode  to  God"  of  uncommon  beauty;  it 
was  translated  into  most  of  the  European  languages, 
and  attained  the  distinguished  honor  of  being  printed 
in  letters  of  gold  and  hung  in  the  palace  of  the  Chi- 
nese Emperor  and  the  Temple  of  Jeddo.  But  devo- 
tion to  power,  from  which  not  even  Dershavin  was 
exempt,  is  the  weakness  of  all  the  literati  of  Russia. 
Patriotism  is  a  becoming  sentiment,  but  a  literature 
expressive  of  that  which  is  not  just  to  all  men,  can 
have  no  abiding  place  in  the  Republic  of  Letters. 
Catharine  was  a  great  patron  of  learning,  but  a  litera- 
ture indebted  to  any  other  influence  than  that  of 
truth  and  nature,  can  never  be  pure  or  permanent. 

During  the  reign  of  Alexander,  who  succeeded 
Catharine,  many  new  schools  and  several  universities 
were  founded,  also  a  number  of  museums.  This 
prince  affected  to  be  a  great  patron  of  letters,  but 
his  influence  rather  made  learning  fashionable  than 
afforded  it  any  substantial  advantage.  Writers  be- 
came extremely  numerous;  authorship  seemed  to  be 
a  rage  with  the  nobility.  Russia,  at  this  time,  pos- 
sessed about  fourteen  thousand  volumes  in  the  Sla- 
vonic language,  more  than  seven  thousand  of  which 
were  said  to  be  the  product  of  a  single  year.  We 
shall  be  able  to  mention  but  few  authors  of  this 
period  —  they  are  very  numerous — among  whom 


RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 


Karamzin  must  stand  at  the  head,  for,  unquestion- 
ably, next  to  Lomonosof,  he  was  the  great  benefactor 
of  Russian  literature.  After  righting  awhile  in  the 
army  with  credit,  he  turned  his  attention  to  letters, 
and  established  the  Moscow  Journal,  a  periodical 
through  which  he  first  became  known  to  the  world  in 
his  new  character.  He  won  nobler  laurels  with  his 
pen  than  he  had  done  with  his  sword.  At  length  he 
enlarged  his  field  by  founding  another  periodical 
called  the  European  Messenger,  in  which  he  took  a 
larger  and  higher  range  of  s-ubjects  ;  but  his  more 
permanent  fame  rests  on  his  history  of  the  Russian 
Empire.  This  great  work,  however,  having  been 
written  under  the  patronage  of  the  government,  is  not 
free  from  the  blemishes  we  have  before  mentioned. 
If  not  false  in  fact,  yet  the  romantic  coloring  is  too 
apt  to  gild  the  deed  which  truth  and  justice  must 
condemn.  The  great  advantage  which  Russian  lit- 
erature gained  from  Karamzin,  was  the  improvement 
of  its  language  and  the  cultivation  of  a  vigorous  and 
idiomatic  style. 

A  remarkable  poet  of  this  period,  both  for  genius 
and  misfortune,  was  Ivan  Koslof.  Early  in  life  he 
had  been  a  gay  and  fashionable  man,  and  pursued  his 
career  of  dissipation  until  sickness  deprived  him  of 
the  use  of  his  limbs,  soon  after  which  misfortune  he 
lost  his  sight.  Adversity  seemed  to  touch  and 
awaken  his  true  genius.  He  found  a  balm  for  his 
afflictions  in  literature.  Heine,  of  Germany,  affords 
a  similar  and  more  recent  example  of  the  soothing 
effect  of  culture  under  misfortune.  Being  a  lover 
of  the  intense  and  passionate,  Koslof  imitated  and 
translated  Byron,  and  like  that  great  poet,  and  like 


IO  RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 

Heine  also,  <che  learned  in  suffering  what  he  taught 
in  song."  Another  poet,  of  a  similar  name — Ivan 
Krylof — was  celebrated  for  the  composition  of  many 
stories  and  fables,  and  his  sweet  appeals  to  child- 
like nature.  Count  Orloff,  as  well  as  several  of  the 
literati  of  Paris,  did  him  the  honor  to  translate  his 
works  into  the  French  language.  He  was  a  pure, 
harmless,  kind-hearted  man,  and,  notwithstanding 
the  ruggedness  of  the  Russian  character,  became  a 
great  favorite  of  the  nation.  Whoever,  indeed,  ob- 
tains a  hearing  from  the  youth  of  a  nation  secures 
perpetual  fame.  At  this  period  Russia  had  produced 
but  little  in  the  drama;  nothing,  indeed,  in  the  de- 
partment of  tragedy  of  any  greatness  or  power. 
Ozerof  is  the  leading  dramatic  poet,  and  his  most 
popular,  and  perhaps  his  best  play,  is  entitled  the 
"  Miseries  of  Intellect" — surely  a  most  admirable 
theme.  The  novel  has  been  cultivated  in  Russia, 
both  in  prose  and  rhyme,  to  a  considerable  extent. 
The  one  best  known  among  the  older  ones,  as  far  as 
I  am  informed,  is  entitled  "  Bursak"  and  is  said  to 
abound  in  that  pleasing,  quiet  humor,  so  character- 
istic of  Don  Quixote,  but  it  narrates  the  adventures 
of  a  scholar  with  his  pen,  instead  of  a  knight-errant 
with  his  sword.  Recently  Russia  has  produced  a 
novelist  of  great  power — Ivan  S.  Turgenef — still 
living.  His  first  venture — " Notes  of  a  Sports- 
man"— a  series  of  sketches  of  country  life,  contains 
vigorous  attacks  upon  the  villeinage  of  the  serfs, 
and  had  much  to  do,  it  is  thought,  in  abolishing  that 
odious  system  of  slavery.  These  sketches  were 
followed  by  more  elaborate  works — (t  Fathers  and 
Children,"  "  Smoke,"  "A  Nest  of  Nobles,"  "  The 


RUSSIAN    LITERATURE.  II 

Unfortunate  One,"  etc. — all  upon   Russian  subjects, 
and  written  with  great  vigor. 

Translations  have  even  abounded  in  Russia.  Ho- 
mer, Ossian,  Ariosto,  Tasso,  Pope,  Byron.,  in  po- 
etry ;  Newton,  Locke,  and  Bacon,  in  philosophy  ; 
and  a  great  number  of  ecclesiastical  and  educational 
works  have  received  the  Slavonic  dress. 

The  reign  of  the  late  Emperor  Nicholas  com- 
menced in  a  storm — indeed  in  blood,  and  ended  in 
storm  and  blood.  The  most  of  his  rule,  however, 
was  calm,  but  it  was  the  calm  of  force,  not  of  con- 
sent. Many  of  the  young  literati  were  concerned  in 
the  bloody  tragedy  which  ushered  the  emperor  into 
power,  and  lost  their  lives  in  the  contest.  His 
death,  during  the  terrible  war  in  the  Crimea,  will  be 
long  remembered.  The  conflict  was  really  between 
free  thought  and  despotic  power.  The  Russian  Pe- 
gasus had  become  restive  under  the  curb  and  rein  of 
tyranny.  He  longed  to  range  at  liberty  in  fresh  pas- 
tures, and  drink  from  a  pure  Hippocrene,  or  dash  his 
daring  hoof  on  Parnassus  Mount ;  but,  alas !  he 
was  subjugated  to  the  Emperor's  will,  and  compelled 
to  drudge  in  his  iron  service,  just  as  Napoleon  III 
geared  him  to  the  car  of  tyranny  in  France. 

Research  and  criticism  began  to  assume  a  more 
prominent  part  in  literature  during  the  late  reign 
than  it  had  previously  done.  A  periodical  work, 
entitled  "  The  Telegraph,."  was  established  by  Pole- 
voi, who  was  a  self-made  man — not  having  been  bred 
to  letters,  nor  was  he  a  man  of  much  genius — but  he 
possessed  a  clear  judgment  and  great  energy  of 
thought,  the  very  qualities  which  constitute  the 
critic.  History  and  biography  assumed  more  im- 


12  RUSSIAN     LITERATURE. 

portance,  but  no  work  of  philosophy  or  science,  or 
at  least  none  of  a  high  order,  had  yet  appeared  writ- 
ten by  a  Russian,  or  in  the  Slavonic  language.  Re- 
ligious controversies  arose,  and  skepticism  and  infi- 
delity made  their  appearance  during  this  reign, 
probably  transplanted  from  Germany  and  France. 
Panslavism — a  political  doctrine,  according  to  which 
Russia,  being  at  the  head,  claimed  the  right  to  ab- 
sorb all  the  Slavonic  nations  into  her  own  empire — 
was  much  discussed  at  this  period,  and  was  indeed 
the  principle  which  gave  the  final  blow  to  the  liberty 
of  Poland.  Books  of  travel  and  studies  of  antiqui- 
ties now  appeared,  but  they  formed  no  very  consid- 
erable branch  of  Russian  literature.  Novels  were 
very  numerous  and  began  to  portray  Russian  home- 
life,  but  no  remarkable  author  appeared  in  this  line. 
Their  works  were  all  ephemeral,  corresponding  to 
the  multitude  of  tales  which  we  now  find  in  our  own 
nation.  Pushkin,  the  greatest  poet  that  Russia  has 
yet  produced,  flourished  during  this  time.  He  had 
been  banished  by  Alexander  for  his  too  daring  senti- 
ments of  liberty,  but  on  account  of  his  great  genius 
was  recalled  by  Nicholas.  During  his  exile  he  wrote 
much  and  well,  but  on  his  return  he  seemed  to  have 
lost  the  spirit  of  his  genius,  so  baleful  is  the  influ- 
ence of  a  despotic  court  upon  this  noble  principle. 
His  writings  possess  the  true  Byronic  fire,  and, 
like  those  of  Koslof,  evidently  share  the  influence  of 
the  great  English  bard.  Pushkin,  indeed,  may  be 
called  the  Russian  Byron.  He  had  the  daring  of  an 
eagle,  and  behind  the  bars  of  despotism,  like  the 
caged  eagle,  could  only  gaze  upon  the  sky  of  liberty. 
The  court  of  Nicholas  was  also  adorned  by  a  num- 


RUSSIAN     LITERATURE. 


her  of  minor  poets,  amongst  whom  two  ladies  of  some 
genius  appeared,  the  Princess  Volkanski,  and  Miss 
Teplef.  Mrs.  Helena  Han  was  also  an  author  of 
celebrity,  whose  writings  resemble  those  of  the  late 
Madame  George  Sand.  A  collection  of  the  popular 
poetry  of  the  Slavonic  tribes  has  been  made  by  Bie- 
lowski,  a  Polander,  by  which  it  appears  that  Russia, 
though  the  largest,  is  not  the  oldest  nor  the  most 
poetical  branch  of  this  extensive  family.  But  Rus- 
sian poetry,  comparing  it  in  quality  to  that  of  this. 
prolific  age  in  our  own  country,  is  very  limited  in 
its  production.  The  Russians  can  not  be  said  to  be 
a  poetical  people.  Pushkin  is  their  only  great  poet 
when  compared  with  the  poets  of  other  nations. 
The  drama,  during  the  reign  of  Nicholas,  lay  at  the 
feet  of  the  Emperor.  The  very  titles  of  the  plays 
are  abject,  and  sometimes  even  sacrilegious;  for  in- 
stance, one  is  called,  "Our  Lives  Belong  to  the 
Czar,"  another,  u  The  Hand  of  God  Defends  the 
Czar." 

Polish  literature,  although  now  embraced  in  the 
general  name  of  Russian,  af  which,  however,  it  is 
the  .greater  and  better  part,  still  deserves  a  separate 
notice.  The  language  of  Poland,  like  that  of  Russia, 
arose  out  of  the  Slavonic  dialects,  but  has  been  modi- 
fied, of  course,  by  the  surrounding  languages.  No 
living  language  can  remain  permanent;  even  the 
written  language  of  the  Chinese,  the  most  peculiar 
of  all  languages,  is  now  changing  under  the  pressure 
of  surrounding  influences.  Like  the  Egyptian  hier- 
oglyphics, the  key  to  its  meaning  has  been  discovered, 
and  it  no  longer  remains  a  mystery.  The  Polish 
tongue  is  still  spoken  by  ten  millions  of  people. 


14  RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 

The  earliest  production  in  this  language  is  a  war 
song — which  is  still  sung,  or  at  least  was  before  the 
Partition  of  Poland  amongst  the  conquering  powers 
— supposed  to  have  been  written  about  the  close  of  the 
tenth  century.  It  should  be  remembered  that  Poland 
had  no  existence  as  a  nation,  separate  from  the  Sla- 
vonic tribes,  earlier  than  the  tenth  century,  nor,  indeed, 
had  Russia  earlier  than  the  ninth.  This  song,  which 
rather  resembles  a  prayer,  has  no  poetical  value,  and 
notwithstanding  so  early  a  specimen,  the  beginning 
of  Polish  literature  does  not  date  before  the  fifteenth 
century.  There  are  a  few  slight  traces  of  recorded 
thought  throughout  this  dreary  period,  but  nothing 
that  remains  permanent.  Indeed,  all  the  nations  of 
the  earth,  except  some  in  the  East,  during  these  five 
centuries,  and  the  five  immediately  preceding  them, 
were  robbed  of  their  rights,  ensnared  in  ecclesiastical 
meshes,  enchained  by  political  tyranny,  and  trodden 
down  to  the  deepest  degradation.  The  sun  of  litera- 
ture, during  one  thousand  years,  was  obscured  by  the 
clouds  of  superstition  ;  philosophy  was  denied, 
science  condemned,  the  arts — except  where  they  sub- 
served the  interests  of  the  church — were  ignored,  and 
liberty  destroyed.  From  the  tenth  to  the  fifteenth 
century,  Polish  thought  and  Polish  letters  were  wholly 
governed  by  church  dignitaries,  who  were  all  foreign- 
ers, the  nation  not  being  allowed  to  exercise  even 
the  humblest  clerical  privileges.  While  a  nation  is 
thus  robbed  and  ridden,  it  is  very  easy  to  see  why  it 
produces  no  literature.  The  mind  must  be  free,  or 
its  thoughts  are  worthless. 

Casimir  was  the  first  wise  Polish  prince;   he  im- 
proved the  laws,   established  courts   of  justice,   and 


RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 


laid  the  foundation  of  a  national  education.  He  was 
the  Petes  the  Great  of  Poland.  The  first  printing 
press  was  erected  at  Cracow,  in  .1488,  from  which 
period  the  Polish  language  may  be  said  to  date. 
There  has  been  found,  however,  a  work  called  "  The 
Memoirs  of  a  Janissary,"  written  at  an  earlier  period, 
but  its  language  is  so  imperfect  that  a  modern  Pole 
can  not  read  it  without  explanation.  It  is  the  journal 
of  a  Polish  nobleman,  who  joined  the  Turkish  army, 
and  fought  at  the  siege  of  Constantinople,  in  1453  ; 
and  of  course,  the  true  date  of  the  work  could  not 
have  been  long  after  that  event.  Some  religious 
works,  that  bear  date  about  the  same  time,  are  still 
extant,  but  their  language  is  also  so  imperfect  that 
they  afford  conclusive  proof  of  the  true  commence- 
ment of  Polish  letters.  The  annals  of  Poland,  how- 
ever, seem  to  be  correctly  written  at  this  time,  and 
for  a  long  period  before,  but  they  are  found  in  the 
Latin  language,  and  written  by  foreign  scholars. 

Kochanowski  was  the  founder  of  Polish  literature. 
He  was  a  man  of  genius,  a  scholar,  and  a  poet.  His 
translations  of  Homer,  Anacreon,  and  Horace,  are 
distinguished  for  force  of  language  and  purity  of 
style;  and  his  original  pieces  possess  uncommon 
vigor  and  beauty.  He  was  a  dramatic  as  well  as  a 
lyrical  poet.  Rybinski  and  Klonowitz  were  also 
distinguished  as  poets  ;  the  former  wrote  in  the  Latin 
as  well  as  in  the  Polish  language,  and  was  created  a 
poet-laureate.  Karpinski  was  the  poet  of  the  people, 
and  may  justly  be  called  the  Burns  of  Poland'.  From 
this  period,  Poland  has  had  a  continued  succession 
of  poets — too  numerous  to  name  even — of  a  high 
order  in  all  the  departments  of  the  art,  down  to  the 


l6  RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 

• 

time  she  lost  her  nationality  ;  and  there  is  one  noble 
trait  of  character,  which,  during  all  of  this  time, 
must  forever  distinguish  them  from  the  Russian 
poets  of  the  same  period — their  muse  was  devoted 
to  freedom  ;  but,  alas,  for  the  sad  effect  of  despotic 
power  in  chaining  genius — a  recent  volume  of 
poetry,  published  at  Warsaw,  celebrates  the  praises 
of  all  the  tyrants  of  Russia,  from  Rurik  to  Alexander. 
And  eloquence,  before  the  downfall  of  Poland,  was 
also  highly  cultivated,  and  very  much  esteemed,  as  it 
always  is  in  a  free  nation,  and  as  it  never  can  be  under 
a  despotism.  Russia  has  never  produced  a  single 
orator  of  eminence,  whilst  Poland  has  had  her  hun- 
dreds ;  but,  alas,  for  Polish  eloquence,  that,  too,  has 
been  hushed  forever. 

The  novel  has  been  cultivated,  perhaps,  in  Poland, 
less  than  any  other  department  of  literature,  yet 
Scott  has  been  happily  imitated.  Sharbeck  is  the 
principal,  or,  at  least,  one  of  the  leading  Polish  nov- 
elists ;  but  the  novel  which  is  said  to  be  most  read, 
was  written  by  a  woman,  the  Princess  of  Wirtemberg, 
and  is  called,  "The  Intimations  of  the  Heart" — a 
very  pleasing  title,  and  a  subject  which  a  woman  could 
most  happily  treat.  Historians  and  annalists  have 
abounded  in  Poland — none  of  the  highest  order, 
however;  but  the  true  history  of  Poland  can  never 
be  written.  Her  nationality  is  lost,  her  libraries  are 
plundered,  and  her  archives  destroyed.  Russia  seems 
determined,  under  the  fatal  doctrine  of  Panslavism, 
not  only  to  destroy  her  from  amongst  the  nations  of 
the  earth,  but  also  to  efface  every  mark  that  might 
seem  to  indicate  her  former  existence.  She  was  too 
learned,  too  eloquent,  too  brave,  and  too  free,  to  suit 


RUSSIAN    LITERATURE.  l7 

the  designs  of  Russia  ;   and  the  remains  of  her  noble 
qualities  but  ill  comport  with  despotic  power. 

In  philosophy,  mathematics,  astronomy,  and  the 
practical  sciences,  Poland,  for  three  hundred  years 
before  her  downfall,  stood  equal  to  any  of  the  con- 
temporaneous nations ;  while  Russia,  proper,  in 
these  departments,  fell  below  mediocrity.  The  uni- 
versities, seats  of  learning,  down  to  the  common 
schools  of  Poland,  were  broken  up,  their  funds  taken 
from  them,  and  every  vestige  worth  removing,  trans- 
ferred to  the  halls  of  the  Czar".  Since  the  downfall 
of  Poland,  the  more  spirited  of  her  people  have,  been 
wanderers,  too  proud  to  wear  the  chains  of  slavery  on 
their  native  soil.  A  great  many  of  her  literati  fled 
to  Paris,  where  they  or  their  descendants  still  live. 
From  that  city,  during  the  last  forty  years,  they  have 
published  to  the  world  many  interesting  productions 
concerning  Poland.  "  Evening  Hours  of  a  Pilgrim," 
the  very  title  of  which  touches  the  heart,  is  a  work 
of  peculiar  interest.  It  gives  much  information  con- 
cerning the  former  condition  of  Poland,  especially 
in  the  time  of  Poniatowski.  I  do  not  know  the  au- 
thor of  this  work  ;  it  was  published  without  his 
name.  The  lectures  of  Mickiewiczs  on  Slavonic 
literature,  delivered  at  Paris,  in  the  French  language, 
and  afterward  published  in  German,  at  Leipsic,  are 
full  of  thought,  and  glow  with  enthusiasm.  Their 
author  was  a  bold  orator  and  a  true  poet.  He  fondly 
believed  in  the  revolution  of  the  world,  which  would 
restore  his  wronged  country  to  her  legitimate  rights, 
and  unite  all  the  Slavonic  nations  under  a  free  gov- 
ernment. He  made  use  of  this  beautiful  metaphor  ; 
"  There  will  yet  be  a  torch  that  shall  illumine  the 


l8  RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 

world,  of  which  I  am  but  a  spark  now  falling  to  the 
ground."  But  it  is  in  purely  poetical  creation  that 
Mickiewiczs  shrouds  his  full  power.  His  £C  Sir 
Thadeus  "  is  a  work  of  great  beauty  ;  and  he  is  also 
the  author  of  some  smaller  poems  of  a  very  high 
order.  But  in  poetry  he  is  not  a  prolific  writer;  in- 
deed, it  might  almost  be  stated  as  a  rule,  that  the 
best  poets  produce  the  least  poetry  ;  at  least,  good 
poetry,  compared  with  such  as  is  "  hated  by  gods 
and  men,"  bears  but  a  small  proportion  to  it.  Peb- 
bles are  plenty,  diamonds  are  rare.  Count  Krazinski, 
however,  is  considered  by  many  their  greatest  poet. 
He  has  the  ethereal  mystical  power  of  Shelley,  com- 
bined with  the  passionate  fire  of  Byron;  indeed,  by 
some  he  is  considered  not  inferior  to  these  master 
spirits.  There  are  a  number  of  other  poets  still  liv- 
ing, too  many,  indeed,  to  notice  separately,  some  of 
whom  have  a  highly-cultivated  genius.  Their  songs 
are  wild  and  daring,  or  sweet  and  subdued,  as  alter- 
nately they  sing  of  their  once  happy,  but  now  unfor- 
tunate country.  But  the  echo- of  their  strains  will 
soon  die  away,  and  Polish  poetry  cease  to  have  a 
living  voice. 

Finland,  as  being  a  considerable  portion  of  the 
Russian  Empire,  may  claim  our  attention  a  moment. 
The  Finns  are  not  of  Slavonic  blood  ;  they  are  sup- 
posed, by  many,  to  be  the  same  as  the  Phinni  men- 
tioned by  Ptolemy,  or  the  Fenni  noticed  by  Tacitus. 
They  are  a  brave  and  hospitable  people,  but  grave 
and  unsocial.  Their  popular  education  is  in  a  low 
state,  y^t  almost  every  one  studies  music  arid  poetry. 
Their  poets  wear  the  mythic  robes  of  Ossian,  and 
their  music  resembles  the  ancient  Gaelic,  or  that  of 


RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 


the  early  Welsh  ;  but  they  can  scarcely  be  said  to 
have  a  recorded  literature.  Their  greatest  poem,  or 
collection  of  poems  —  it  is  difficult  to  say  which  —  is 
an  epic,  entitled  Kallawalla.  It  has  been  translated 
into  English,  French,  and  German,  and  I  believe 
into  the  Swedish  language.  It  is  from  this  poem, 
as  some  have  thought,  that  Longfellow  caught  the 
idea  of  his  Hiawatha.  Kallawalla  sings  the  legends 
of  the  Finnish  race,  and  Hiawatha  the  traditions  of 
the  North  American  Indians.  That  the  legends  and 
traditions  of  a  rude  people,  though  inhabiting  differ- 
ent countries,  when  their  circumstances  are  alike, 
might  resemble,  is  highly  probable;  yet  there  are  but 
few  coincidences  between  the  Finns  and  our  Indians. 
From  the  strong  resemblance  between  the  two  poems, 
not  only  in  form  and  spirit,  but  in  many  of  the  inci- 
dents, and  the  frequent  similarity  of  thought  and 
sentiment,  it  seems  highly  probable  that  Professor 
Longfellow  took  a  lively  hint  from  the  Finnish  epic. 
Though  Longfellow  worthily  wears  the  poetic  wreath, 
yet  he  is  too  much  of  a  scholar  and  too  devoted  to 
books  to  be  a  thoroughly  original  poet.  Not  that 
a  man  can  be  too  learned  to  be  a  poet,  yet  his  genius 
must  bear  a  due  proportion  to  his  learning,  else  he 
will  take  thought  at  second  hand  and  unconsciously 
become  a  copyist.  This  is  precisely  the  case  with  the 
author  of  Hiawatha;  his  genius  is  covered  up  in  his 
learning;  he  has  not  sufficient  force  to  assimilate  it, 
and  thus  make  it  his  own,  or  to  shake  its  influence 
from  his  mind.  The  author  of  Kallawalla  is  un- 
known. It  has  been  sung  during  many  generations 
at  the  fireside  of  the  Finn,  and  chanted  in  the  field 
to  lighten  his  labor.  Indeed  it  has  floated  in  tradi- 


2O  RUSSIAN     LITERATURE. 

tion  for  ages,  until  it  was  gathered  up  by  European 
scholars,  or  some  modern  Pisistratus  perhaps,  and 
put  in  its  present  shape.  This  renders  its  authen- 
ticity certain,  but  leaves  the  name  of  its  author  a 
mystery  forever. 

We  will  now  notice  some  of  the  characteristics  of 
Slavonic  popular  poetry,  and  also  give  a  few  speci- 
mens. The  monuments  of  a  nation's  muse  generally 
exist  in  their  epics,  dramas,  histories  ;  these  are  read 
by  students,  scholars,  and  critics  ;  but  the  living  and 
flowing  poetry  of  a  nation  is  found  in  its  songs  and 
ballads;  these  are  read,  repeated,  recited,  and  sung 
by  the  people.  The  Slavi  are  a  singing  race.  The 
faculty  called  a  musical  ear  is  almost  universal  with 
them,  and  their  cultivation  of 'a  musical  taste  is  re- 
markable; and,  when  not  at  war,  singing  and  playing 
on  an  instrument  of  the  lyre  kind,  similar  to  a 
Spanish  guitar — in  Latin  called  a  cithara,  in  old 
English  a  citttra>  and  in  Spanish  guitarra,  whence 
comes  the  modern  name,  guitar — -constitutes  quite  an 
occupation,  and  consumes  much  of  their  time.  In 
their  poetry  they  make  frequent  use  of  epithets,  and 
the  application  of  some  of  them,  though  somewhat 
monotonous,  is  indeed  beautiful.  To  give  an  ex- 
ample— the  word  white  is  not  only  applicable  to 
things,  but  to  actions  also.  Not  only  is  it  used  to 
express  the  color,  but  also  every  quality  that  is  pure, 
or  beautiful,  or  good.  They  would  say  of  a  noble 
action,  "it  is  a  white  deed  ;"  or  if  they  speak  of  the 
Czar,  they  call  him  the  white  Czar;  and  indeed  they 
extend  the  application  of  the  epithet  to  the  Almighty, 
calling  Him  the  white  God,  as  we  would  say  the  Im- 
maculate. Slavonic  poetry  is  extremely  ancient. 


f   UNIVERSITY  ) 

\      y 

RUSSIAN    LITERATURE.  21 

We  are  indebted  to  German  scholars  for  bringing  it 
to  light,,  as  we  are  indebted  to  them  for  light  upon 
many  other  subjects.  Its  morality,  for  a  rude  peo- 
ple, is  extremely  high  and  just,  and  its  tone  remark- 
ably pure  and  chaste,  as  is  more  likely  to  be  the  case 
in  northern  than  in  southern  races.  In  these  respects 
politer  nations  might  have  learned  justice  and  purity 
from  the  ancient  Slavi.  It  is  also  comparatively  free 
from  superstition  and  those  monstrous  conceptions 
which  are  so  apt  to  disfigure  the  poetry  of  rude 
nations.  Such  supernatural  expressions  as  we  find  in 
it  generally  relate  to  the  attributes  of  the  Supreme 
Being,  or  to  the  missions  of  angels,  which  are  pleas- 
ing to  the  most  enlightened  minds.  The  belief, 
however,  in  the  foreboding  of  dreams  prevails  to 
some  extent.  Indeed,  but  few  persons  rise  entirely 
above  such  influences  ;  the  reason  condemns  thern^ 
but  a  doubt  will  still  linger  in  the  sentiments.  There 
is  a  prevailing  cast  of  melancholy  in  the  Russian 
songs,  and  in  the  tone  of  their  national  music.  The 
origin  of  their  popular  tunes  is  as  deeply  hidden  in 
the  past  as  the  sources  of  their  poetry.  They  are 
rich  and  varied,  and  are  much  admired  by  cultivated 
musicians.  The  pensiveness  which  pervades  his 
songs  appears  in  singular  contrast  with  the  generally 
cheerful  disposition  and  rugged  character  of  the 
hardy  Russ.  And  as  warlike  as  the  Russians  are, 
we  yet  find  but  few  war  songs  in  their  poetry  ;  nor 
are  they  remarkable  for  their  fire  or  force  when  they 
do  occur.  The  following  "  Song  of  the  Haidam- 
ack "  is  a  fair  specimen.  It  is  expressive  of  the 
Russian's  hatred  of  the  Pole.  Haidamack  is  a  name 
given  to  the  Russian  peasant : 


22  RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 


SONG  OF  THE  HAIDAMACK. 

Gladly  would  I  to  the  war — 

To  the  war  so  full  of  prey  ; 
Pleasure  of  the  Haidamack, 

But  the  steward  bids  me  stay  ! 

Gladly  to  the  merry  dance, 

Would  I  to  the  gusli  play, 
Pleasure  of  the  rosy  maid  ; 

But  the  steward  bids  me  stay  ! 

Gladly  would  I  hunting  go 

With  my  hounding  dog  away%, 
Pleasure  of  the  noble  youth, 

But  the  steward  bids  me  stay  ! 

But  farewell,  thou  rosy  maid, 

Quickly,  sabre,  to  thy  goal, 
Mount  thy  charger,  Haidamack, 

Perish  may  the  haughty  Pole ! 

Neither  are  elegiac  pieces  common  in  Slavonic 
poetry.  The  following  elegy,  however,  on  a  mur- 
dered youth,  is  supposed  to  date  as  early  as  the  six- 
teenth century : 

ELEGY  ON  A  MURDERED  YOUTH. 

Oh,  thou  field,  thou  green  and  level  field, 
Oh,  thou  plain,  so  far  and  wide  around, 
Pleasing  field,  dressed  up  with  everything — 
Everything — with  sky-blue  flowers  so  small ; 
Fresh  thy  verdure,  and  thy  bushes  fledged, 
But  defaced  by  one  thing— only  one  ! 

In  thy  very  middle  stands  a  tree  ; 

On  that  tree  a  young  grey  eagle  sits  ; 

He  sucks  the  raven's  heart-blood  glowing  hot, 


RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 


Drenches  with  it,  too,  the  moistened  earth. 
Ah,  black  raven,  youth  so  good  and  brave, 
Thy  destroyer  is  the  eagle  grey  ! 

Not  a  swallow  can  more  fondly  cling  — 
Hovering  cling,  unto  her  soft,  warm  nest, 
Than  the  mother  to  her  murdered  son. 
And  her  tears  flow  like  the  rushing  stream, 
And  his  sister's  like  the  murmuring  rill  ; 
Thus,  in  showers,  the  tears  of  love  fall  down  ! 


The  following  touching  little  piece,  entitled  "The 
Dove,"  may  also  rank  under  the  present  division  : 

THE  DOVE. 

On  an  oak  tree  sat, 
Sat  a  pair  of  doves  ; 
And  they  heart  to  heart 
Tenderly  embraced. 

On  them  suddenly 
Darted  down  a  hawk ; 
One  he  seized  and  tore, 
Tore  the  little  dove  ; 
With  his  feathered  feet, 
Soft  blue  little  dove  ; 
And  he  poured  his  blood 
Streaming  down  the  tree  ; 
Feathers  too  he  strewed 
Wide  around  the  lea  ; 
High  away  the  down 
Floated  on  the  air. 

Ah,  how  wept  and  wept, 
Ah,  how  sobbed  and  sobbed, 
The  tender  doveling  then 
For  her  little  dove  ! 


24  RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 

Spake  the  light  young  hawk 
To  the  little  dove  ; 
"  Weep  not,  weep  not  so, 
Tender  little  bird  ! 
O'er  the  sea  away — 
O'er  the  far  blue  sea, 
Flocks  of  other  doves 
I  will  drive  to  thee  ; 
From  them  choose  thee  one, 
Choose  one  soft  and  blue, 
With  his  feathered  feet, 
Little  dove  for  you  !  " 

Said  the  doveling  then, 
To  the  light  young  hawk  : 
"  Villain,  fly  thou  not 
O'er  the  far  blue  sea, 
Flocks  of  other  doves 
Drive  not  here  to  me  ; 
Of  all  the  flocks  of  doves, 
Of  all  beyond  the  sea, 
The  father  of  my  little  ones 
Alone  can  comfort  me  !" 

The  song  of  the  Post  Boy  is  highly  characteristic 
of  the  rugged  Russian  and  the  cheerless  climate. 
Imagine  him  in  the  depths  of  a  Russian  winter, 
scaling  the  snow-clad  mountain;  in  the  wild  forest; 
through  the  keen  air;  while  a  few  stray  sunbeams 
glitter  on  the  snow  they  can  not  melt,  chanting  the 
following  strain : 

SONG  OF  THE  POST  BOY. 

Ah,  thou  bright  sunlight — 
Bright  and  red  sunlight, 
O'er  the  mountain  high, 
Shining  through  the  oak, 


RUSSIAN     LITERATURE.  25 

Warm  the  post-boy's  heart, 
Warm,  oh,  warm  me,  sun, 
And  not  me  alone, 
But  my  maiden,  too  ! 

Ah  !  thou  maiden  dear, 
Fairest,  dearest  child  ; 
Thou  my  lovely  maid, 
Mild  and  sweet  to  me  ! 

4 

Black  those  brows  of  thine, 
Black  thy  winning  eyes, 
And  thy  lovely  fa&e, 
All  so  round  and  bright, 
Without  painting  red, 
Without  painting  white ! 

To  thy  girdle  rolls 
Many  a  flowing  lock  ; 
And  thy  voice  is  sweet, 
Full  of  gentle  talk  ! 


In  the  collections  of  Slavonic  poetry  to  which  I 
have  had  access  I  do  not  find  a  single  drinking  song. 

Some  of  them,  however,  allude  to  the  vine  in 
rather  merry  terms.  The  Russians  are  known  to  be 
a  sober,  hardy  people ;  yet,  as  every  poetic  literature 
of  which  I  have  any  knowledge,  has  something  in- 
spired by  the  wine-cup,  it  would  seem  highly  proba- 
ble that  the  Russian  did  not  stand  as  an  exception 
so  remarkable.  Bacchanalian  songs  really  disfigure 
Greek  and  Roman  poetry  ;  and  the  German,  French, 
and  English  are  not  without  serious  faults  in  this 
respect.  It  is  a  subject  well  enough  when  delicately 
managed,  but  in  the  poet's  hands  very  liable  to  be 
abused. 


26  RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 

The  love  of  the  dead  appears  to  be  a  strong  trait 
in  the  Slavonic  character.  The  following  piece,  al- 
though it  sounds  very  Germanlike,  is  characteristic 
of  the  melancholy  Slavi.  It  is  difficult,  in  these 
specimens,  to  always  employ  rhyme  and  exactly  pre- 
serve the  sense,  yet  it  will  be  attempted  in  some  of 
the  following  pieces  : 

THE   DEAD   LOVE. 

I  sought  the  dark  wood  where  the  oat-grass  was  growing ; 
The  maidens  were  there  and  the  oat-grass  were  mowing ; 
And  I  called  to  those  maidens :  "Now,  say,  if  there  be 
The  maiden  I  love  'midst  the  maidens  I  see !" 

And  they  sighed  as  they  answered  :  "  No,  no  ;  alas,  no  ; 

She  was  laid  in  the  tomb  just  one  week  ago.'* 

"  Then  show  me  the  way  my  footsteps  must  tread 

To  reach  the  dark  chamber  where  slumbers  the  dead  I" 

II  The  path  is  before  thee,  her  grave  will  be  known 

By  the  rosemary  wreathes  her  companions  have  thrown." 
"  And  where  is  the  church-yard,  whose  newly-made  heaps 
Will  point  out  the  bed  where  the  blessecl  one  sleeps  ! " 

I  turned,  and  with  heart-chilling  terror  I  froze, 
As  a  newly-made  grave  in  my  pathway  arose ; 
And  I  heard  a  low  voice,  but  it  audibly  said : 
"  Disturb  not,  disturb  not,  the  peace  of  the  dead  ! " 

u  Who  treads  on  my  grave?  what  footsteps  have  swept 
The  dew  from  the  bed  where  the  weary  one  slept?" 
"  Oh  maiden,  my  maiden,  speak  not  thus  to  me, 
My  presents  were  once  not  unwelcome  to  thee  !  " 

"  Thy  presents  were  welcome,  but  none  could  I  save, 
Not  one  could  I  bring  with  me  into  the  grave  ; 
Go,  then,  to  my  mother,  and  bid  her  restore 
To  thy  hands  every  gift  which  I  valued  before !  " 


RUSSIAN     LITERATURE. 


"  Then  cast  the  gold  ring  in  the  depths  of  the  sea, 
That  eternity's  peace  may  be  given  to  me  ; 
And  sink  the  white  'kerchief  deep,  deep  in  the  wave, 
That  my  head  may  repose  undisturbed  in  the  grave  !" 

The  next  is  a  little  piece  bearing  the  same  title, 
which,  I  think,  must  be  regarded  as  beautiful.  The 
reader  should  remember  what  was  said  about  the 
word  white  —  that  it  meant  not  only  the  color,  but 
also  everything  that  is  good,  pure,  or  beautiful  : 

THE  DEAD  LOVE. 

White  art  thou  my  maiden, 

Naught  so  white  as  thee  ; 
Warm  my  love  is,  maiden, 

Can  not  warmer  be  ! 

But  when  dead,  my  maiden, 

Whiter  than  before  ; 
Maiden,  now  I  love  thee 

Warmer  than  before  ! 

The  accumulated  superlatives  in  this  piece  are 
faults  in  a  strictly  critical  view.  Of  course  nothing 
can  be  whiter  than  the  whitest,  nor  warmer  than  the 
warmest.  But  the  same  extravagances  have  been  al- 
leged against  Sappho  and  Shakespeare,  and  indeed  can 
be  pointed  out  in  most  of  our  standard  poets.  The 
head  may  detect  such  errors  but  the  heart  forgives 
them. 

Love  is  the  great  element  in  Slavonic  poetry,  as 
it  is,  indeed,  in  the  poetry  of  all  the  nations  of  the 
earth.  Love  —  nothing  so  laughed  at,  yet  nothing  so 
wept  over;  nothing  so  ridiculed,  yet  nothing  so 
obeyed;  nothing  so  gentle,  yet  nothing  so  terrible; 


28  RUSSIAN     LITERATURE. 

why  wonder,  then,  since  it  can  move  every  other  pas- 
sion, that  love  is  the  master  key  to  poetry.  Strong 
men  and  proud  women  may  say  what  they  will — he 
conquers  them,  and  they  obey  him.  The  Russian, 
with  all  his  ruggedness,  is  delicate  in  love.  In  lit- 
erature their  love  songs  are  less  offensive  with  gross- 
ness  of  passion  than  perhaps  those  of  almost  any 
other  nation.  Greece,  the  politest  of  ancient  nations, 
and  France  of  modern,  fall  far  below  Russia  in  this 
respect.  There  is  less  ideality  in  the  Russian's  love 
than  in  the  Grecian  or  German,  but  his  affection  is 
more  self-sacrificing  to  the  object  beloved.  The  fol- 
lowing verse  expresses  a  pure  and  noble  sentiment. 
It  should  be  mentioned  first,  however,  that  the 
Asiatic  custom,  by  which  the  parents  dispose  abso- 
lutely of  their  children  in  marriage,  prevails  through- 
out the  Slavonic  nations.  A  Russian  daughter, 
wherever  her  love  might  be  placed,  would  not  pre- 
sume to  marry  against  her  parents'  discretion.  This 
verse  expresses  the  lover's  advice  to  his  beloved  after 
she  is  betrothed  to  another,  in  accordance  with  pa- 
rental authority : 

Weep  not,  weep  not,  oh,  sweet  maid  ; 
Choose,  oh,  choose  another  love. 
Is  he  better  ?     Thou  Ft  forget  me  ; 
Is  he  worse?     Then  think  of  me — 
Think  of  me,  sweet  one,  and  weep ! 

The  following,  which  describes  a  parting  under 
similar  circumstances,  it  appears  to  me,  must  be  re- 
garded as  a  beautiful  poem.  It  is  impossible  to 
adopt  rhyme,  in  this  piece,  without  too  great  a  sacri- 
fice of  the  thought. 


RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 


THE  FAREWELL. 

Brightly  shining  sank  the  waning  moon, 
And  the  sun  all  beautiful  arose, 
Not  a  falcon  floated  through  the  air  — 
Strayed  a  youth  along  the  river's  brim  ; 
Slowly  strayed  he  on,  and  dreamingly, 
Sighing,  walked  he  to  the  garden  green, 
Heart  all  filled  with  sorrow,  thus  he  mused  : 
UA11  the  little  birds  are  now  awake, 
Greeting,  all  have  sung  their  morning  songs. 
But,  alas!  that  sweetest  doveling,  mine, 
She  was  my  youth's  first  dawning  love, 
In  her  chamber  slumbers  fast  and  deep. 
Ah,  not  even  her  friend  is  in  her  dreams,       , 
Ah,  no  thought  of  me  bedims  her  soul, 
While  my  heart  is  torn  with  wildest  grief 
That  she  comes  to  meet  me  here  no  more  !" 

Stepped  the  maiden  from  the  chamber  then, 
Wet,  oh,  wet  with  tears  her  lovely  face  ; 
All  with  sadness  dimmed  her  eyes  so  clear, 
Feebly  drooping  hung  her  snowy  arms. 
'T  was  no  arrow  that  had  pierced  her  heart, 
'  T  was  no  adder  that  had  stung  her  breast  ; 
Weeping,  thus  the  lovely  maid  began  : 
"  Fare  thee  well,  beloved,  fare  thee  well, 
Dearest  soul,  thy  father's  noblest  son  ; 
I  have  been  betrothed  since  yesterday, 
Come,  to-morrow,  troops  of  wedding  guests  ; 
To  the  altar  I  am  forced  to  go  ; 
I  shall  be  another's  then,  yet  thine, 
Forever  thine,  thine  only  until  death  ! 

Having  thus  shown  the  complaint  of  a  despairing 
lover  for  the  loss  of  his  mistress,  we  will  present  the 
following  little  piece,  which  expresses-  the  grief  of  the 
maiden  for  the  loss  of  her  lover.  The  sentiment  is 
lighter  than  that  of  the  preceding  pieces,.  Perchance 


JO  RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 

some  inveterate  bachelor — unwillingly  so,  no  doubt — 
will  exclaim  :  u  and  well  it  may  be,  for  the  maiden's 
love  is  lighter  than  the  man's."  But  be  that  as  it 
may,  here  is  the  piece: 

THE  FORSAKEN  MAIDEN. 

Little  star,  with  gloomy  ray, 

If  thou  coulds't  but  cry, 

If  thou  hads't  a  heart,  my  star, 

Sparks,  I'm  sure,  would  from  thee  fly, 

Just  as  tears  fall  from  mine  eye. 

All  the  night  with  golden  sparks 
Thou  for  me  woulds't  cry, 
Since  my  love  intends  to  wed, 
Only  cause  another  maid 
Richer  is  than  I ! 

Nor  can  this  piece  rank  very  high  as  a  composi- 
tion. It  is  too  much  elaborated.  The  heart  utters 
its  grief  in  the  most  simple  and  direct  language.  It 
never  runs  after  comparisons.  The  tone  of  the  piece 
sounds  far  more 'like  the  song  of  a  lover  in  his 
closet  than  the  deep  murmur  of  an  injured  maiden's 
heart. 

The  following  poem  is  very  plaintive,  and  fondly 
expresses  the  uneasy  longing  of  the  love-stricken  one: 

ABSENT  LOVE. 

Winds  are  blowing,  howling, 
•     Trees  are  bending  low  ; 
Oh,  my  heart  is  aching, 
Tears  in  streamlets  flow ! 

Days  I  count  with  sorrow, 
And  no  ends  appears, 


RUSSIAN     LITERATURE. 


But  my  heart  is  lightened 
When  I'm  sheddin     tears  ! 


Tears  the  heart  can  lighten, 

Happy  make  it  riot, 
But  one  blissful  moment 

Ne'er  can  be  forgot  ! 

On  the  lea  so  sandy  — 

Dry,  dew-thirsty  lea, 
Oh,  without  my  lover 

Life  is  dark  to  me  ! 

Where,  dark  -browed,  beloved  one, 

Where,  oh,  mays't  thou  be  ! 
Come,  oh,  see,  and  wonder 

How  I  weep  for  thee  ! 

I  would  fly  to  thee,  love, 

But  no  wings  have  I  ; 
Withered,  parched,  without  thee 

Every  hour  I  die  ! 

But  I  find  that  I  am  quoting  quite  too  freely 
from  this  branch  of  my  subject;  I  can  not  leave  it, 
however,  without  showing  the  humorous  side  of  the 
universal  passion.  The  following  playful  banter  is 
quite  pleasing  : 

THE  LIBERAL  OFFER. 

Flowing  waters  meet  each  other, 
And  the  winds  they  blow  and  blow  ; 

Sweetheart,  with  the  bright  blue  eyes, 
Looking  from  the  window  now  ; 

Do  not  stand  so  at  the  window, 

Rather  come  before  the  door  ; 
If  thou  givest  me  two  kisses, 

I  will  give  thee  ten  —  or  more  ! 


32  RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 

This  piece  is  from  Bohemia,  and  the  succeeding 
one  from  the  Vendee,  neither  of  which  provinces  be- 
long to  Russia,  but  both  are  of  Slavonic  origin. 
The  following  verses  will  show  lovers 

HOW  TO  CHOOSE  A  WIFE. 

Let  him  who  would  married  be, 
Look  about  him  and  take  care 
How  he  choose  to  take  a  wife — 

Take  a  wife, 
Lest  he  rue  it  all  his  life  ! 

If  thou  shoulds't  make  up  thy  mind, 
And  should  take  too  young  a  wife, 
Youthful  wife  has  boiling  blood — 

Boiling  blood  ; 
No  one  thinks  she  is  too  good  ! 

If  thou  shoulds't  make  up  thy  mind, 
And  shoulds't  take  too  old  a  wife, 
In  the  house  she'll  creep  about — 

Creep  about, 
And  will  frighten  people  out ! 

If  thou  shoulds't  make  up  thy  mind, 
And  shoulds't  take  a  handsome  wife, 
She  will  nought  but  trouble  give — 

Trouble  give ; 
Others'  visits  she'll  receive  ! 

As  for  poor  ones,  let  them  be, 
Nothing  they  will  bring  to  thee, 
Every  thing  will  wanting  be — 

Wanting  be  ; 
Not  a  soul  will  come  to  thee ! 

If  thou  shoulds't  make  up  thy  mind, 
And  shoulds't  take  a  wealthy  wife, 


RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 


Then  with  patience  them  must  bear — 

Thou  must  bear, 
For  the  breeches  she  will  wear ! 

Pretty,  modest,  smart,  and  neat, 
Good  and  pious  she  must  be  ; 
If  thou  weddest  such  a  wife — 

Such  a  wife, 
Thou'lt  not  rue  it  all  thy  life ! 

But  with  all  the  devotion  of  the  Slavonic  races  to 
the  grand  passion,  it  does  not  seem  that  the  "course 
of  true  love"  runs  any  smoother  with  them  than  it 
does  with  other  people,  as  the  following  Servian  song 
will  show.  It  should  be  introduced,  however,  with 
the  explanation  already  made— that  in  all  the  Slavonic 
nations  the  authority  of  the  parents  over  their  children 
in  the  affair  of  marriage  is  absolute;  and  the  addi- 
tional remark  that  their  authority  does  not  cease  with 
marriage.  It  seems,  indeed,  that  the  parents,  during 
their  lives,  exercise  an  important  influence  over  the 
families  of  their  children.  'The  knowledge  of  this 
custom  is  necessary  to  the  full  understanding  of  the 
following  little  piece,  entitled 

THE  QUARREL. 

Come,  my  neighbors,  let  us  hurry, 

That  we  may  not  stay  out  late  ; 
My  mother-in-law  is  in  a  fury — 

She  says  I  broke  my  husband's  pate. 

Well,  he  would  n't  mind  my  wishes, 

Heeding  not  a  word  I  said  ; 
He  refused  to  wash  the  dishes — 

I  threw  a  pitcher  at  his  head  ! 


34  RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 

Both  were  broken — head  severely, 

For  the  head  I  could  but  laugh  ; 
But  I  loved  my  pitcher  dearly — 

It  cost  an  apple  and  a  half! 

Those  who  are  familiar  with  old  English  poetry 
written  before  the  age  of  Spenser,  will  notice  many 
resemblances  between  that  and  the  poetry  of  the 
Russians.  Indeed — human  nature  being  ever  the 
same — wherever  nations  have  attained  to  a  similar 
degree  of  civilization  and  intelligence,  they  will  be 
found  to  resemble  one  another  in  their  literature  and 
manners.  And  persons  of  the  same  degree  of  cul- 
ture generally  have  similar  opinions  and  tastes.  The 
upper  castes  of  India,  although  we  are  in  the  habit  of 
thinking  of  that  nation  as  sunk  in  idolatry,  which 
indeed  is  quite  true  as  to  the  general  masses,  enter- 
tain opinions  on  most  matters  of  thought  and  taste 
corresponding  wth  the  educated  classes  of  Germany, 
France,  or  England,  or  indeed  any  other  cultivated 
nation.  External  manners  may  vary  according  to 
local  customs,  and  fashions  may  change,  chameleon- 
like,  but  modes  of  thought  and  matters  of  feeling 
and  taste,  amongst  the  cultivated,  have  an  affinity 
throughout  the  world. 

It  is  quite  unsatisfactory  to  give  extracts  from  prose 
works  without  extending  them  impracticably.  From 
works  of  philosophy  they  would  be  unmeaning  with- 
out the  argument ;  from  essays  unfair,  unless  the 
premises  were  stated  ;  and  from  stories  scarcely  intel- 
ligible, unconnected  with  the  plot ;  indeed,  anything 
torn  from  its  context  must  necessarily  surfer  much 
injury  thereby.  We  must  therefore  be  contented 
with  the  following  passages,  taken  from  TurgeniePs 


RUSSIAN    LITERATURE.  35 

cc  Nest  of  Nobles"  which  give  certain  marked  charac- 
teristics of  each  sex  : 

c  In  her  youth,  Maria  Demitrievna  had  enjoyed 
the  reputation  of  being  a  pretty  blonde,  and  even  in 
her  fiftieth  year  her  features  were  not  unattractive, 
though  they  had  lost  somewhat  of  their  fineness 
and  delicacy.  She  was  naturally  sensitive  and  im- 
pressionable, rather  than  actually  good-hearted,  and 
even  in  her  years  of  maturity  she  continued  to  be- 
have in  the  manner  peculiar  to  c  institute  girls.'  She 
denied  herself  no  indulgence,  she  was  easily  put  out 
of  temper,  and  she  would  even  burst  into  tears  if  her 
habits  were  interfered  with.  On  the  other  hand,  she 
was  gracious  and  affable  when  all  her  wishes  were  ful- 
filled, and  when  nobody  opposed  her  in  anything. 
Her  house  was  the  pleasantest  in  the  town,  and  she 
had  a  handsome  income,  the  greater  part  of  which  was 
derived  from  her  late  husband's  earnings,  and  the 
rest  from  her  own  property.  Her  two  daughters 
lived  with  her;  her  son  was  being  educated  in  one  of 
the  best  crown  establishments  at  St.  Pe'tersburgh. 

<c  The  old  lady,  who  was  sitting  at  the  window  with 
Maria  Demitrievna,  was  her  father's  sister,  the  aunt 
with  whom  she  had  formerly  spent  so  many  lonely 
years  at  Poknovskoe.  Her  name  was  Marfa  Timo- 
feevna  Pestof.  She  was  looked  upon  as  an  original, 
being  a  woman  of  an  independent  character,  who 
bluntly  told  the  truth  to  every  one,  and  who,  al- 
though her  means  were  very  small,  behaved  in  soci- 
ety just  as  she  would  have  done  had  she  been  rolling 
in  wealth.  She  never  could  abide  the  late  Kalitine, 
and  as  soon  as  her  niece  married  him,  she  retired  to 
her  own  modest  little  property,  where  she  spent  ten 


36  RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 

whole  years  in  a  peasant's  smoky  hut.  Maria  De- 
mitrievna  was  rather  afraid  of  her.  Small  in  stature, 
with  black  hair,  a  sharp  nose,  and  eyes  which  even 
in  old  age  were  still  keen,  Marfa  Timofeevna  walked 
briskly,  held  herself  bolt  upright,  and  spoke  quickly 
but  distinctly,  and  with  a  loud,  high-pitched  voice. 
She  always  wore  a  white  cap,  and  a  white  busk  al- 
ways formed  a  part  of  her  dress."  .... 

"  Panshine  really  was  very  adroit — not  less  so  than 
his  father  had  been.  And,  besides  this,  he  was  en- 
dowed with  no  small  talent;  nothing  was  too  difficult 
for  him.  He  sang  pleasantly,  could  draw  confidently, 
and  write  poetry,  and  acted  remarkably  well. 

tf  He  was  now  only  in  his  twenty-eighth  year,  but 
he  was  already  a  chamberlain,  and  he  had  arrived  at  a 
highly  respectable  rank  in  the  service.  He  had  thor- 
ough confidence  in  himself,  in  his  intellect,  and  in  his 
sagacity.  He  went  onward  under  full  sail,  boldly 
and  cheerfully  ;  the  stream  of  his  life  flowed  smoothly 
along.  He  was  accustomed  to  please  every  one,  old 
and  young  alike;  and  he  imagined  that  he  thor- 
oughly understood  his  fellow  creatures,  especially 
women — that  he  was  intimately  acquainted  with  all 
their  ordinary  weaknesses. 

"  As  one  who  was  no  stranger  to  art,  he  felt  within 
himself  a  certain  enthusiasm,  a  glow,  a  rapture,  in 
consequence  of  which  he  claimed  for  himself  various 
exceptions  from  ordinary  rules.  He  led  a  somewhat 
irregular  life;  he  made  acquaintances  with  people 
who  were  not  received  into  society,  and  in  general  he 
behaved  in  an  unconventional  and  unceremonious 
manner.  But  in  his  heart  of  hearts  he  was  cold  and 
astute:  and  even  in  the  midst  of  his  most  extrava- 


RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 


gant  rioting,  his  keen  hazel  eye  watched  and  took 
note  of  everything.  It  was  impossible  for  this  dar- 
ing and  unconventional  youth  ever  quite  to  forget 
himself,  or  to  be  thoroughly  carried  away.  It  should 
be  mentioned  to  his  credit,  by  the  way,  that  he  never 
boasted  of  his  victories.  To  Maria  Demitrievna's 
house  he  had  obtained  access,  as  soon  as  he  arrived 
in  O.,  and  he  soon  made  himself  thoroughly  at  home 
in  it.  As  to  Maria  Demitrievna  herself,  she  thought 
there  was  nobody  in  the  world  to  be  compared  with 
him."  ..." 

The  current  literature  of  Russia  was  checked  and 
changed  by  the  Crimean  war;  indeed,  during  that 
period,  not  a  single  book  of  the  first  class  appeared, 
either  in  Germany,  France,  England  or  Russia. 
There  were  many  books  written  at  that  time,  but 
they  nearly  all  relate  in  some  way  to  the  war,  and  of 
course  are  of  an  ephemeral  character.  The  same  may 
be  said  of  that  spawn  of  books  produced  by  our  late 
civil  war.  They  are  but  little  better  than  daily  news- 
paper matter,  and,  having  served  their  temporary  pur- 
pose, are  now  quite  worthless  except  as  material  for 
the  future  historian.  It  is  impossible  to  write  of 
current  events  with  full  information,  if  it,  indeed, 
could  be  done  with  entire  fairness.  Even  Thucy- 
dides  did  but  little  more  than  collect  material  for  the 
Peloponnesian  war,  as  much  as  his  works  are  admired. 
Man  is  unable  to  rise  above  the  events  which  press 
upon  him,  and  view  them  entirely  free  from  interest, 
prejudice,  or  passion,  as  he  may  look  upon  those 
which  affected  a  preceding  century  or  generation. 
The  history  of  the  present  must  be  written  in  the 
future.  Literature  never  flourishes  when  the  world 


38  RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 

is  disturbed  by  wars;  this  fact  is  fully  established  by 
the  history  of  the  past,  but  it  generally  receives  an 
impetus  soon  after  war,  or  any  great  national  disturb- 
ance. Ideas  become  shaken  up  during  war,  danger, 
or  any  intense  excitement,  and,  after  the  events  are 
past,  fall  into  order  again,  and  seek  expression  in 
literature.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  favorable 
to  awaken  the  genius  of  a  people  than  the  alternate 
storm  and  calm  of  the  Grecian  States.  After  the 
Crimean  war,  which  shook  the  entire  Eastern  hemis- 
phere, and  indeed  disturbed  the  relations  of  the 
whole  world,  a  new  vigor  was  infused  into  the  litera- 
ture of  the  nations,  more  especially  of  those  so 
deeply  affected  by  that  terrible  conflict,  so  singularly 
are  the  events  of  the  world  connected  together  in  af- 
fecting the  destiny  of  man.  Within  six  years  after 
the  peace  of  Paris,  which  settled  the  Crimean  war, 
schools  were  established  in  Russia  which  taught  the 
liberal  and  advanced  philosophy  of  the  time,  and  did 
much  to  spread  knowledge  throughout  the  empire. 
The  works  of  Tyndall,  Huxley,  Darwin,  Buckle, 
Faraday,  Mill,  Helmholtz,  Virchow,  and  of  other  lib- 
eral writers,  were  translated  into  the  Russian  language, 
passed  through  several  editions,  and  were  circulated 
widely.  Among  the  present  novelists  of  Russia — 
besides  Turgenef,  already  noticed — may  be  mentioned 
Avdeyef,  Gontchasof,  Krestovski,  and  Panayef; 
among  the  present  poets,  Palouski  and  Nekrasof; 
and  dramatists,  Ostrovski  and  Count  Tolstoi.  Their 
present  great  philosopher,  and  indeed  it  might  be 
said  their  first,  is  Lavrof;  and  their  historians,  Pypin, 
Kovalevski,  and  Solovief.  Their  great  statesman, 
during  the  Crimean  and  Austro-French  wars  was 


RUSSIAN    LITERATURE.  39 

Prince  Gortschakof — the  rival  if  not  the  equal  of 
Bismarck.  ,  Daily  and  weekly  newspapers,  monthly 
and  qarterly  periodicals,  have  been  established  in  sev- 
eral places  in  Russia,  especially  in  St.  Petersburgh 
and  Moscow.  Amongst  their  distinguished  editors 
may  be  named  Korsh,  Krayefski,  Katkof,  and  Aksa- 
kof.  Besides  these,  there  are  many  young  authors 
rising  in  Russia  in  the  various  departments  of  litera- 
ture, which,  at  this  distance  from  them,  seem  rather 
as  nebulae  than  as  fixed  stars.  It  is  not  likely  that 
this  advancement  of  learning  invRussia — at  least  not 
for  a  long  time — would  have  occurred,  but  for  the 
stirring  events  connected  with  the  Crimean  war. 
Events  affect  men  more  than  men  affect  events.  Had 
there  been  no  Trojan  war,  there  never  had  been  a  Ho- 
mer; had  there  been  no  civil* war  in  Rome,  there  never 
had  been  a  Caesar;  had  France,  Spain,  Italy,  and 
Germany  been  at  peace,  there  never  had  been  a 
Charlemagne;  had  Russia,  Poland,  and  Denmark 
treated  Sweden  fairly,  there  never  had  been  a  Charles 
the  Twelfth  ;  if  the  nations  of  Europe  had  remained 
at  peace,  no  Napoleon  could  have  risen  ;  and  but  for 
our  revolution  Washington  would  probably  have  re- 
mained a  private  citizen.  Indeed,  it  is  impossible  to 
be  great  in  anything  unless  the  circumstances  neces- 
sary to  greatness  exist.  When  there  is  nothing  to 
do,  nothing  can  be  done.  The  architect  can  not 
erect  his  edifice  without  material,  nor  can  the  sculptor 
produce  his  work  without  his  marble.  Men  of 
genius  affect  one  another;  and  they  seem  to  grow  in 
clusters.  Aristotle,  Socrates,  and  Plato  flourished 
together;  Cicero,  Caesar,  and  Sallust;  Corneille,  Mo- 
liere,  and  Racine;  Goethe,  Schiller,  and  Herder;  Ad- 


40  RUSSIAN    LITERATURE. 

dison,  Pope,  and  Johnson ;  the  world  has  yet  produced 
but  one  Shakespeare.  Russia  has  not  yet  offered  her 
cluster  of  geniuses,  but  if  she  continues  to  progress 
in  enlightenment  as  she  has  recently  progressed,  the 
world  may  expect  from  her  something  far  better  than 
anything  she  has  yet  produced.  But  she  has  already 
afforded  much  that  is  good,  some  that  is  excellent, 
though  with  some  defects ;  yet  it  must  be  remem- 
bered that  her  literature  is  in  a  transition  state.  It 
has  not  yet  passed  the  first  poetic  condition  ;  its 
mass  of  polite  prose  literature  is  yet  to  be  written, 
after  which  a  more  profound,  philosophic  period  may 
be  expected.  It  is  a  curious  facjt  in  the  history  of 
literature  that  poetry  precedes  prose,  and  prose  phi- 
losophy ;  but  poetry  also  seems  to  be  the  last  gift  of 
a  nation  to  the  world,  as'well  as  the  first,  and  many 
believe  the  best.  We  have  already  remarked  that 
poetical  expression  precedes  even  civilization.  The 
poetical  period  begins  before  the  language  is  per- 
fected; as  it  becomes  polished  and  full  it  passes  into 
prose;  at  length,  after  it  has  become  settled,  clear, 
and  certain,  it  is  then  suitable  to  express  the  various 
philosophical  formulae  and  the  exact  sciences.  We 
do  not  mean  to  say  that  poetry  and  prose  may  not 
exist  together,  and  with  philosophy  and  science;  they 
undoubtedly  may,  and  do,  after  the  philosophic  pe- 
_riod  has  arrived,  and  that  of  poetry,  which  is  first 
and  last  of  all.  In  English  literature,  Addison, 
Goldsmith,  and  Byron  lived  after  Bacon,  Locke,  and 
Newton  ;  yet  Gower,  Chaucer,  and  Spenser  preceded 
all.  Examples  of  this  order  of  succession  may  be 
cited  from  almost  any  nation.  Not  only  Homer, 
but  also  Sophocles  and  ^Eschylus  preceded  Herodo- 


RUSSIAN    LITERATURE.  4! 


tus  in  Greece,  and  all  of  them  lived  before  Socrates, 
Plato,  and  Aristotle.  Ennius,  Plautus,  and  Ter- 
ence preceded  Cicero,  Pliny,  and  Sallust,  and  flour- 
ished before  the  philosophic  period  of  Rome.  Dante 
preceded  Petrarch,  and  Petrarch  ushered  in  Boccacio 
and  other  accomplished  prose  writers  of  Italy.  Cor- 
neille,  Moliere,  and  Racine  introduced  the  period  of 
prose  composition  in  France;  and  Gower  and  Spenser 
flourished  in  England  before  any  established  prose 
writers,  and  prior  to  Bacon,  Locke,  and  Newton. 
America  is  yet  too  young  to  afford  an  example  of  so 
grand  a  law ;  besides,  when  she  became  a  distinct 
nation  there  was  a  literature  in  her  language  already 
formed.  Indeed,  America  never  can  have  an  entirely 
new  literature;  her  literature  was  begun  for  her  before 
she  had  a  beginning  as  a  nation — before  she  was  sepa- 
rated from  the  mother  country.  Yet  there  is  enough 
room  for  originality  in  America,  with  her  vast  conti- 
nent, free  institutions,  and  new  conditions ;  but 
whatever  she  may  produce,  English  and  American 
literature,  being  created  by  the  same  race,  and  ex- 
pressed in  the  same  language,  must  forever  remain 
but  separate  parts  of  a  grand  whole.  Russia,  as  we 
have  seen,  has  produced  her  poets — some  of  dis- 
tinction— and  prose  writers,  not  without  merit.  She 
has  her  philosophers,  and  may  be  said  to  be  entering 
upon  her  scientific  period.  Her  language  is  becom- 
ing more  and  more  perfect  as  she  progresses,  and 
when  war  ceases  to  be  her  ruling  passion  she  will 
take  full  rank  in  the  peaceful  pursuit  of  letters. 
What  is  to  be  the  ultimate  destiny  of  the  Russian 
government,  or  of  Russian  literature,  it  is  impossible 
to  know,  and,  of  course,  idle  to  conjecture,  but  I 


42  RUSSIAN     LITERATURE. 


can  not  help  but  think  that  she  will  carry  her  ban- 
ner in  the  course  of  time  to  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope.  The  Slavi  bear  a  relation  to  the  nations 
south  of  their  territory  similar  to  that  which  the 
hardy  North  Men,  in  the  earlier  centuries  of  the 
Christian  era,  bore  to  the  Roman  Empire.  They 
overran  Rome  and  spread  into  the  forests  of  Ger- 
many and  Gaul,  passed  into  France  and  England, 
and  across  to  America.  We  derive  our  blood  from 
their  veins.  They  were  a  rude  people,  ns  rude  as  the 
Slavi  ever  were;  yet  out  of  this  blood  have  sprung 
the  best  governments,  the  purest  literature,  and  the 
politest  nations  of  the  earth.  If  the  Slavonic  race 
should  run  the  same  course  they  will  but  do  what 
the  Teutonic  and  Gallic  have  done.  Russia  must 
ultimately  and  inevitably  be  the  great  power  of  that 
hemisphere,  as  the  United  States  must  be  of  this. 
In  her  present  position  Russia  has  the  finest  oppor- 
tunity to  present  a  new  literature  to  the  world  of  any 
nation  on  earth.  There  never  really  has  been  a 
wholly  new  literature  since  the  days  of  Greece;  per- 
haps there  never  can  be;  but  Russia  is  influenced  less 
by  the  past  than  any  other  nation.  Literature  origi- 
nally sprang  up  in  the  East,  no  one  can  tell  exactly 
where  or  when.  It  ran  through  Assyria,  Persia, 
Arabia,  and  all  the  eastern  nations,  into  Egypt. 
Greece  copied  Egypt,  Rome  copied  Greece,  and  the 
world  has  copied  all.  These  two  last  mentioned  and 
most  celebrated  nations  have  shot  their  influence  in 
letters  through  Germany,  France,  Spain  (less  in 
Spain),  England,  and  America,  down  to  the  present 
time.  They  must  inevitably  affect  every  portion  of 
the  world  that  comes  in  contact  with  their  literature  ; 


RUSSIAN    LITERATURE.  43 


indeed,  there  remained  a  slavish  obedience  to  classic 
models  till  Shakespeare,  Cervantes,  and  a  few  other 
geniuses  taught  the  world  that  it  might  be  pleased 
without  obeying  the  arbitrary  rules  of  Greece  and 
Rome — that  we  still  have  the  common  fountains  of 
nature  to  draw  from,  and  that,  as  these  fountains  are 
inexhaustible,  we  might  still  hope  to  taste  of  some- 
thing;; fresh  from  their  sources. 

o 

But  whatever  may  be  the  fate  of  the  Russian  gov- 
ernment, her  learned  belong  to  the  Great  Republic 
of  Letters  ;  and  whatever  may  be  the  fate  of  all  the 
political  governments  of  the  earth,  the  Republic  of 
Letters  will  endure  with  the  existence  of  the  human 
mind.  It  has  no  limit  in  boundary  save  the  earth 
itself  It  began  with  the  earliest  history  of  man,  and 
can  end  only  with  humanity.  In  commenced  in  the 
far  East,  and  in  the  deep  past,  spread  into  Egypt, 
and  continued  on  through  Greece,  Rome,  Germany, 
France,  Italy,  Spain,  England,  Russia,  to  America; 
and  although  wars  have  continued,  and  still  continue 
between  the  nations  of  the  earth,  and  revolution  has 
succeeded  revolution  within  the  separate  govern- 
ments, yet  the  Republic  of  Letters  has  marched  on- 
ward in  its  peaceful  career,  binding  together  all  the 
races  of  the  world  in  one  harmonious  and  indissolu- 
ble union.  How  temporary,  and  even  trifling,  ap- 
pear the  political  revolutions  of  nations,  when  com- 
pared with  the  illustrious  progress  of  letters.  And 
it  can  have  no  retrograde  movement;  its  march  must 
ever  be  onward.  The  learned  of  all  periods,  and  of 
all  nations,  and  of  all  time,  are  members  of  this  re- 
nowned Republic.  Still  may  we  go  to  the  temple 
and  sit  at  the  banquet  with  Manu,  Confucius, 


44  RUSSIAN     LITERATURE. 


Hafiz  and  Zoroaster  of  the  East;  with  Soter  and 
Philadelphia,  of  Egypt;  with  Homer,  Socrates, 
Xenophon,  Pindar,  Plato,  Aristotle,  and  Demos- 
thenes, of  Greece;  with  Virgil,  Horace,  Tacitus, 
Seneca,  Sallust,  and  Cicero,  of  Rome;  with  Goethe, 
Schiller,  Klopstock,  Lessing,  Herder,  and  Richter,  of 
Germany:  with  Corneille,  Moliere,  Racine,  Voltaire, 
Beranger,  Lamartine,  and  Guizot,  of  France;  with 
Garcillasso,  Herera,  and  Cervantes,  of  Spain  ;  with 
Dante,  Petrarch,  Boccacio,  and  Tasso,  of  Italy  ; 
with  Chaucer,  Spenser,  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Locke, 
Newton,  Addison,  Johnson,  Goldsmith, .and  Buckle, 
of  England ;  with  Burns  and  Scott,  of  Scotland ;  with 
Lomanosof,  Karamzin,  Pushkin,  Dershavin,  and 
Zagorkin,  of  Russia;  and  with  our  own  Franklin, 
Bancroft,  Bryant,  Webster,  and  Irving,  of  America; 
nor  can  we  name  a  thousandth  part  of  the  worthy 
guests,  nor  have  we  mentioned  even  all  the  nations  ; 
while  the  feast  is  made  richer  and  richer  by  the  fruits 
of  mind  through  all  the  ages  ;  more  beautiful  and 
more  beautiful  with  the  sweetest  blossoms  of  the 
heart  from  every  clime;  and  purer  and  purer  by  the 
aspirations  of  the  soul  of  all  mankind.  A  seat  at 
this  board  offers  a  nobler  ambition,  and  affords  a 
more  rational  honor  than  all  the  venal  thrones  and 
high  places  of  the  earth;  yea,  to  be  the  humblest 
citizen  in  this  world-wide  and  time-enduring  Repub- 
lic, is  a  prouder  title  than  all  that  kings,  and  crowns, 
and  the  powers  of  the  earth  can  bestow. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 
on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 


Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 

• 

REC'D  LD 

JUL  31  1957 

\r*n  I  M 

4lan  62  J  " 
REC'D  LD 

DEC    7ttR1 

APR  *  3  196676 

.  _-> 

WAV  1  5  1968 

*»-*••"• 

LD  21-100w-6,'56 
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General  Library 

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